does the sun ever set on the romulan empire?
by unskilledworker
Summary: Sylvia is a human botanist who embarks on a terraforming mission on the outskirts of Federation Space. Then, Romulans. Rated M preemptively.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The trip from Risa to Opperline III was going to take a long time. It was the longest amount of time I could ever remember being on a starship. And the U.S.S. Ludwig was a galaxy class. When the Federation first gave me the itinerary it was shocking. Three weeks in a galaxy class? It'd felt unbelievable even then, standing on Risa with my bags packed. But looking out the window of the observation lounge on the Ludwig, space seemed to vibrate around me like a tuning fork. It was the first time I realized how far away from home I was really going. Something about looking out those windows made my teeth feel electric.

Those three weeks gave me a lot of time to think. Most of our complement had already arrived on Opperline III and begun preliminary work on the planet's surface months ago. Only three other members of my terraforming team were onboard with me; Louise and David Greenblatt, a husband and wife (a biologist and a molecular chemist, respectively) and a strange, surly older man named Piers Farthing with gnarled hands who kept to himself. I never ended up figuring out what exactly his specialty was. He didn't volunteer. I never bothered to ask.

I was to be the group's chief (and basically only) botanist. I'd gotten the position pretty unexpectedly. I'd sent in my prospective-terraformation application only three months before I actually got the assignment, and the whole thing had seemed kind of hasty. Especially by Federation standards. When they first sent word I was incredibly surprised. I hadn't even expected an update to move that quickly through the mammoth bureaucracy's grinding teeth, let alone a decision. I figured the message would be a cursory "we've received and processed your application, we'll let you know." Terraforming missions were ludicrously competitive and the waiting list could be years long for the best assignments.

But a decision was what they had made. They told me the position had opened up unexpectedly because, after several departure delays, the previously assigned botanist had found it necessary to remove himself from the mission for personal reasons. Something about a sick mother. If I took the position, I'd ship out in three weeks. I didn't really buy the excuse about the other botanist then, but I didn't think about it too much. Once onboard the Ludwig it struck me that he might have come to the same realization I had, just a lot sooner. Opperline III was really far away.

Three weeks was not a lot of time to get one's ducks in a row for a probably-indefinite deployment to parts unknown, and I told the Federation as much, not that I had many ducks to begin with. They hemmed and hawed about how I wasn't commissioned. They threw in a pension plan. I said yes.

I would've said yes even without the pension plan. I didn't tell them, but frankly when I closed the comm channel and realized I'd be leaving Risa (for probably the last time) in less than a month I was elated. It felt like I'd won the lottery. The next day I walked into the Risa Land and Sea Beautification Commission's office and handed in my letter of resignation. I had to field a few concerned messages and a few very concerned conversations over drinks with friends in the coming weeks. Those conversations escalated quickly in their urgency as time slipped away from us and my friends realized yes I was serious and no I probably wouldn't be coming back. Everyone kept asking me "why, Sylvia?" It bothered me a little when I realized I didn't have a good answer but probably not as much as it bothered them.

On the Ludwig, though, the question felt a little more pressing. Sure, I hadn't been happy on Risa, but I hadn't exactly been happy anytime I'd left Risa either. I'd tried out starbases, I'd tried out starships. I probably would've even tried out Earth, if there'd been a way to get there besides Star Fleet (or being born there– both options obviously out of my reach). So why did I think this would be any different? I'd always gone back to Risa after maybe a month or two. But it wasn't ever because I missed Risa.

There certainly wasn't anything or anyone for me there. The slow, leisurely pace drove me crazy. The whole planet was overrun with a dangerous combination of hedonism and liminality. Tourists were always coming and going, but living there felt like being sucked into a morass. Sure, the weather was nice. Sure, it was beautiful. But even that allure started to vanish once I worked for the agency making sure it stayed that way. The whole place was lush, moist and stagnant. Perfect growing conditions for mold. It'd been exactly the same since before I'd been born, it stayed the same throughout my entire childhood and adolescence there, and I always had the feeling it'd be that way long after I was dead.

Something about the hurried shuffle and muted beige of the Ludwig gave me the exact same feeling, so when we finally arrived at Opperline III I was nothing short of relieved. There were about a hundred of us there: geologists, the ecology team, climate specialists, chemists, a security detail. The planet itself was small but gorgeous, all verdant grasses and strange temperate forests. We were stationed a few hundred miles north of the equator, and the weather was good if a little cold for my taste. The agriculture team told me it was ideal for growing the kinds of Terran plants native to the American continents. We weren't a particularly tight-knit group, but we were certainly all friendly and professional. I never felt alone there, though maybe a little lonely. Colonists were expected to arrive eventually, but probably not until a year and a half into the mission if we kept to our Federation-prescribed schedule.

I'd only been there for a month when the Romulans came.

The weather that day felt like early spring. A chill nipped at my hands and ears but it was crisp and sunny. I was in one of my greenhouses, humming gently, tending to an orchid. I had just paused my scans to look out over the agricultural team's beautiful, green-budding wheat field when I began to hear a low hum.

It was so soft at first I could've convinced myself sasaI'd imagined it; almost more a suggestion of sound than sound itself. As it grew louder, though, the timbre of the vibrations became unmistakable. It was the sound of an electromagnetic field. I turned my head from left to right, trying to determine its point of origin, but it seemed like it was coming from all directions. I paused. All directions? But that could only mean-

I pulled my now-useless comm unit from my uniform's pocket just in time to hear the unmistakable sound and see the unmistakable shimmer of a transport beam as two Romulans materialized into shape just outside the entrance to my greenhouse. I shouted into my comm unit.

"Fonesca to security! Two Romulan-"

A crash. The door to my greenhouse had been kicked in, and the two Romulans burst inside, disruptors pointed at my chest.

"Drop the comm unit," said the Romulan closest to me "and raise your arms. Make no sudden movements or I will fire, and I warn you: I will only fire once. Cooperate and we will grant you the gift of your life."

I wondered at the phrasing: 'you shall receive the gift of your life'. It almost seemed like a joke, but I supposed there wasn't anything particularly funny about the situation, as I stood there, comm unit still in hand. Had my previous message gotten through, or was that the point of the electromagnetic field? Either way, there was nothing I could do about it now. I dropped the comm unit and it fell with a thud onto the packed-dirt floor of the greenhouse. Slowly, I raised my arms. So much for winning the fucking lottery.

The first Romulan gestured for the second to advance.

"Confiscate her weapons." he said.

"I don't have-"

"Silence!"

I shut up. The second Romulan walked behind me and frisked my legs and sides, pulling my tricorder and my gardening shears from my pockets. He then picked my comm unit up from the ground.

"No weapons Subcommander Bochra,"

Subcommander Bochra grit his teeth.

"Her boots, Antecenturion, quickly."

The Antecenturrion hurriedly kneeled and stuffed his hands inside my boots, feeling around. After a few moments he stood.

"Still no weapons Subcommander Bochra." he said.

The Subcommander nodded stiffly and reached within his pocket for his comm unit.

"We are three." he said.

Suddenly, I felt that familiar grain-deep pin-needle spinning sensation, as though I had tried to move but my entire body had fallen asleep at once. We were beamed aboard the ship.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: _Ok so I made some alterations here bc I changed my mind about where I wanted this to go. You'll perhaps notice that I removed the prologue! (even though I liked it a lot) That's because I think…. I'm just gonna let the story unfold and change from here without having a weird like post-present narrative overarching plot to have to resolve satisfactorily (that after I thought about it I couldn't really see how to resolve it in a way that would make sense)._ _Also I just realized that when I deleted the prologue I deleted the first author's note so basically. Just fyi for anyone reading this it's my first fanfiction ever and I warmly invite any questions comments concerns or idle suggestions. Like basically tell me if you notice a continuity error (if you want). Ok one last administrative note: if you see me updating this again before like the 17th of December tell me there's a term paper and 2 final exams which are much more pressing than this lmfao. Also,_ _ **KaffeeKonsum**_ _, thank you for being my first ever reviewer! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story |:o)_

Chapter 2

When we materialized inside the transporter room I was immediately overwhelmed by the totality of a deep, verdant green. The room was small, and the depth of the color made it seem even smaller, though the effect was not claustrophobic. The walls looked very close, yes, but they also looked very, very soft. Instead of being claustrophobic, the rich matte of the green and the cramped, close feeling of the room gave it the distinct atmosphere of a blanket fort illuminated by flashlight.

Incidentally, that green was virtually all I had time to see as I was immediately blindfolded, told to make no overtures of resistance, and then very quickly spun around in a circle. Once I was sufficiently disoriented I was led down what felt like a warren of corridors, though my head stopped spinning quickly enough to note four right turns in quick succession, followed by three left. Evidently I was not as far from the transporter room as they wanted me to believe.

I blinked as my blindfold was removed, my eyes adjusting to the light. I was standing in the middle of a brightly lit room. Antecenturion Torketh was backing out of the room steadily, disruptor pointed at me. He passed under a threshold into a dim foyer and called out, "Subcommander, I am clear of the field!" Promptly, the Subcommander enabled an electromagnetic field, locking me inside.

"The Commander will come to see you when he is ready to do so," Bochra said, "you will remain here until that time. If you touch the electromagnetic field you will be shocked. If you try to escape you will be shot. Torketh." He waved a hand at the Antecenturion and then stalked out of my view. Torketh turned his back to me, disruptor in hand, and began his vigil.

Once I could no longer hear the sound of Subcommander's footsteps I turned to look at the interior of the cell. It was a bizarre shade of chartreuse, rectangular, about eight feet wide by ten feet long. Every part of the room was visible from the entrance. It advanced backwards from the archway like a shoebox. A shelf extended out from half of the left-most wall. A bed, I guessed, deliberately shorter than would be necessary for the cell's average occupant. But I figured it'd be fine for me. Built into the right-most wall were two bowl shaped objects, one with a faucet. I realized, with a start: _Romulans used bidets._

I sat down on the floor and idly imagined ways I could escape. Eventually they would need to get me out of here, meaning they'd need to lower the field. But what was I going to do, rush them? And if I did, then what? Even in the incredibly unlikely event that I'd be able to grab a disruptor and fight my way to the transporter room, what could I possibly do once I'd gotten there? I'd never learned anything about transporter equations. And where could I possibly go? We must be deep inside Romulan space by now. The Federation would never risk sending a ship into Romulan space to get me.

I found myself, for the first time in my life, wishing I'd become an engineer. Maybe if I'd done that I'd be able to disable or even weaponize the EM field somehow. And I'd certainly have been able to figure out the transporter. Suddenly, accompanied by a lurching feeling in my gut, I realized the gravity of the situation I was in. If they'd been able to neutralize me so quickly, what was going to happen to the rest of my terraforming team? Surely they knew tampering with the team on Opperline III would be interpreted as an act of war? I knew very little of Romulans, but what little I retained from my interstellar history courses had left me with the impression that they rarely made a move without a grander strategy boiling up somewhere, just out of sight. What kind of long and terrible chess game were they playing out here on the outer edge of Federation space?

And what did they want with _me?_

I put my head in my hands. The adrenaline must have been wearing off, because I was suddenly so, so tired. I curled up on the floor on my side, pulling my knees tight against me, and fell asleep.

I was woken by the soft swish of the doors immediately in front of me. My eyes snapped open and my first sensation was of a dull ache in my side. Why was I laying on the–

 _Oh. Right._

In the dimly lit foyer I could see the shapes of two people– one in a long, trailing cloak– advancing towards me. I sat up sharply and saw Torketh spasm into a salute, followed by a deep bow.

"Subcommander Bochra. Commander Taev."

 _Commander, huh?_ I watched the figures as they drew closer. The cloaked figure I presumed was Commander Taev entered into the small pool of light cast into the foyer from my cell as Subcommander Bochra hung back, illuminated dimly. The Commander took me in, towering above me. I was struck first by the color of his cloak. It was a startling, jewel-blue, and long. It fell all the way to his ankles and the trailing end was punctuated every few inches by spectacular gold-corded tassels. The effect would've been almost absurd if not for the cruel, aquiline beauty of his face, and the intimidating Romulan brow. I moved to stand.

"No, no," he said, smiling gently "stay seated. I like you better that way."

My cheeks felt suddenly very warm, but I stayed where I was. He appraised me, a smile playing across his mouth. He waved a hand.

"Antecenturrion Torketh, that will be all. Go ready the landing transport procedure."

The Antecenturrion bowed again and then stomped out of the room, somewhat comically, I thought. Commander Taev hadn't averted his gaze from me once during the exchange. He raised his left hand to his cheek and tapped his index finger against his temple, pensive.

"Do you know why I've taken you?" he asked.

"No." I said. He smiled, wide.

"Perhaps you should think, then."

I gestured helplessly. "I've been trying," I said, "I really can't couldn't think of anything that would justify the risk–" Subcommander Bochra coughed, lightly, and I glanced over at him but his expression was inscrutable in such low light. "And anyway I just can't imagine what you'd need me for. I'm not even commissioned, I don't know anything you don't already know. I'm just a botanist."

Taev's smile took on a shark-like cast.

"You are an expert of the Terran plant called the 'orchid,' are you not?"

I stared at him.

"I– Well, I mean, yes?"

His narrowed his eyes, half-lidded like a cat, and allowed himself to resume his knowing half-smile.

"Then, as one of your poets said, that is all you know, and all you need to know."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: _ok I felt bad leaving it for like 2 weeks with such a short update so here's this and now REALLY nothing else until the 17th! If you see another update yell at me!_

Chapter 3

Commander Taev stepped neatly aside at the sound of the doors and I realized, with a start, that he was wearing shoes which looked suspiciously like velvet slippers. Torketh and one other Romulan entered the foyer, saluting first Taev and then Bochra.

"Commander Taev, we have achieved orbit with ch'Rihan. We are ready to land at your earliest convenience."

Taev nodded at Torketh, and then glanced at me.

"I must return to my command, but you will receive an audience with me soon," he said to me, before sweeping towards the door. "Subcommander Bochra, please remain with the prisoner until landing."

Subcommander Bochra let out a sharp exhale that was almost lost in the swish of the doors as Taev exited the brig. I saw his jaw set and realized it must have been a snub to be left in the brig, guarding me. It wasn't exactly like I was going anywhere anytime soon. I felt a sharp pang of pity in my sternum.

"Subcommander?" I said, cautious. He looked at me, startled.

"Yes?"

"Does your title mean that you're second in command of this ship?" He tilted his head.

"Yes," he said, "But we are not simply a ship and her crew. This vessel is a small craft, intended for executing missions swiftly... and _covertly_. It is not our base of operations. We are a battalion of 100 men. I am the Subcommander of this ship because I am the Subcommander of that battalion."

"Why are you not on the bridge, then?" I said. His eyes hardened.

"Is that not clear? I am not on the bridge because I have been given orders to remain here and guard our prisoner." He turned away from me.

"I meant–"

"You meant why do I not question the orders I have received? If I am to question this order, what will keep me from questioning the next? And the one after that? I suppose you would even have me question my order to maintain your confinement? Why do I not simply raise the electromagnetic field, you might ask? Orders are not to be questioned, they are to be obeyed. This should not be difficult to understand, even for a human."

"I was just curious."

"Of course." he snorted, "Curiosity. The perennial human justification for a lapse in fealty. I suppose honor means nothing to your people, if it can be abandoned in the name of _curiosity._ "

I fell silent.

"Where we're about to land, is that the battalion's base of operations?"

He looked back at me, seeming genuinely perplexed.

"Why do you ask these questions when you know you will obtain the answer momentarily?"

I shut up.

Bochra turned out to be correct about me obtaining the answer momentarily, after only a few minutes of silence I felt the low rumble of the ship's landing stabilizers, a moment of lightness as the ship's artificial gravity turned off, and then the light jostling as the ship settled to the ground. A low, long hiss accompanied the lowering of the ship's landing gear and then quiet.

Taev and Torketh re-entered the brig moments later and Taev stalked over to the entrance to my cell, his spectacular navy cloak fluttering behind him. I decided it was time to stand, and my knees cracked as I rose to my feet.

"Antecenturrion, please lower the electromagnetic field," he said.

"Commander, you have no disruptor–"

"I trust you have already confiscated her weapons. Do you really think me so weak that _I_ would need one, Antecenturrion? Do you truly think," Taev asked, his smile like acid, "that without a disruptor I would be helpless to defeat her?" Torketh blanched.

"No, Commander," he said. "Lowering electromagnetic fields now."

Commander Taev stepped swiftly into the archway and held out the crook of his arm to me. I looked up at him, confused.

"Will you take my arm, or are you going to simply stand there?"

My cheeks felt suddenly very hot but I tentatively placed my hand in the crook of his elbow, hoping to touch as little of him as possible. I noted with surprise that even through the fabric of his cloak I could feel the abnormal warmth of his skin. He led me out of the cell and into the larger room of the brig, and I wondered if I could try to make a break for it. I glanced around, trying to discern a route of escape, but quickly caught sight of Subcommander Bochra, just to my left. He was watching me with a tight-mouthed, disgruntled look and I quickly noticed _he_ had not opted to escort me sans-disruptor. I quickly looked away, eyes to the ground. Now would not be a good time to take my chances.

Commander Taev led me down a hallway, and then into a hangar and down a long ramp. I could see, at the end of the ramp, sunlight filtering in. As we stepped out onto the planet's surface I was hit by a wave of warmth and humidity so thick I could almost feel it on my skin. I took a deep breath. It felt like home.

"Welcome," Taev said as we stepped out into the sun, "to ch'Rihan."

He stopped for a moment, allowing me to look out onto the landscape. We were standing on some kind of tarmac, and on the horizon to our left lay a number of scattered buildings surrounded by a fence, which I assumed was the battalion's compound. To our right the horizon was an open vista of swamp stretching for what seemed like miles. In the distance I saw the rising peaks of mountains and what looked like the glittering skyline of an alien city, shrouded in fog. I swallowed.

"I thought," I said, "that it would be more… Dry."

"Dry?" Taev asked, "We are not desert-dwellers. We are not Vulcans."

"I know that," I said hastily, "I just thought–" He flashed me a predatory smile.

"Do not think any longer, then," he said. I felt my jaw tense. "Come now, there is much to see."

Taev me a brief tour of the compound, which was larger than I expected but couldn't have been more than 70 acres or so. It had four platoon quarters, a canteen, a combat training facility and– strangely enough– an amphitheatre. A number of Romulan men were out of doors around the facility running drills and each stiffened into salute as Commander Taev and I passed, Subcommander Bochra trailing behind us. Taev made no move to acknowledge them, as though they were invisible, though they could certainly see _us–_ and certainly took notice. I felt like melting into the ground, though I realized that this had probably been Commander Taev's goal, to parade me around like the fatted calf. I supposed that made him the prodigal son.

Finally Taev led me to a squat little one-story building with a small attached greenhouse and a yard, totally enclosed on all sides by a black wire fence, like an aviary. My heart sunk.

"And this is where you will live," Taev said, clearly proud. "We have been building it for a week now. I trust you will find it meets all your needs. Let me show you inside." He led me up to the door, releasing my arm and then pressing the small of my back, pushing me inside a small room. He followed me in, then turned at the threshold.

"That will be all, Subcommander Bochra," he said curtly. I turned to see Bochra, tight-jawed and tense, standing in the doorway.

"Commander, respectfully, you have no disruptor. If she attempts escape–"

"Did you not hear me, Subcommander?" asked Taev. "I recall telling you 'that will be all.'" Bochra breathed in sharply, looked at me, then gave the Commander a clenched-fist salute. The door swished closed.

"Finally," Taev said, turning back to me. "I thought we'd never get rid of him." I began to feel nervous, and glanced around the room for something, anything to change the subject.

"Is this um, my living room?" I asked, nothing with dread the tremulous quiver in my voice. Evidently Taev noticed it as well. He flashed me a predatory smile.

"Are you frightened of me? You shouldn't be. I have done nothing to you." he said. He reached down and lifted a lock of my hair from my shoulder, rolling it gently between his index finger and thumb, then leaned close. "Would you like me to?" I yelped.

"No!" I said, "I mean, respectfully, I mean–"

He laughed. "Of course," he said. "You are correct, there will be time for that. In fact we have all the time in the world."

Taev gave me a tour of the house: a main room, which we had been standing in, with a strange translation of a parlor area a bedroom and a bathroom. He explained to me that they had built it using the available intelligence on Terran home environments, 'so as to better ensure my optimum comfort' which felt like a cruel joke. Finally, he led me outside to the greenhouse.

"And here," he said "is the reason why I brought you here." He looked at me expectantly. It was empty.

"I, yes–" I said, hesitant. "I'm still not sure that I understand that part."

"You will recall I asked about your expertise regarding the Terran plant known as 'orchid'?"

"Yes, but–"

"Then what is your confusion?"

I frowned.

"I just don't understand... why, exactly." I said.

"Must you know _why_ a flower grows in order to grow it?" he asked.

"Well, no," I said. He cocked his head.

"You are still unsure."

"I. Look, Commander Taev, forgive me but it all seems like a lot of trouble to go to, kidnapping a Federation-employed botanist just to have her grow you some flowers. I mean, don't get me wrong, I _love_ orchids. I devoted years of study to them. I think they're one of the most beautiful families of plants known to man– and that includes the Bajoran false mosses. I just don't see how they could be worth this kind of risk." Taev tapped a finger to his mouth and looked at me. I let out a huff of air. "There are a lot of different species of orchids. If you tell me what _kind_ of orchid you need, I'll get right to work." Taev grinned.

"Give me the most beautiful orchids you can imagine, and give them plentifully. I will send someone to assist you tomorrow."

Taev left, but not before giving me a comm unit which he assured me would be a private line to him alone, instructing me to use it 'if I ever found myself feeling lonely'. Once he was gone, I held it between my thumb and index finger as though it were a particularly fetid work sock and dropped it underneath a couch cushion. I assumed that if it meant I could reach him anytime I wanted it would reach me anytime _he_ wanted as well, and I didn't feel particularly enthusiastic about being spied on. Taev gave me a serious case of the heebie jeebies, and I planned on limiting his access to me as much as I could, for as long as I possibly could. Briefly I considered courting his favor, wondering if sidling into his good graces would open inroads to escape. But I had known men like him before: better to keep just out of his reach and risk his frustration, I thought, than ingratiate myself and risk his boredom. I figured keeping myself interesting was going to be a vital strategy here.

I set to work, gathering a list of the supplies I would need, though I couldn't imagine how they were going to get the seeds. They had done an admirable job building the greenhouse, especially for a planet that probably never got too terribly cold, but they had forgotten to create a ventilation system so I marked with the tools I had where I would need glass cut and a fan installed. Luckily the soil they provided was loamy enough to suit my needs, but I set to work with a spade anyway, aerating it. I was going to need a tricorder as well, to check the mineral levels of the soil. There was no way Romulan swamp dirt was going to have optimal nitrogen concentrations. Lastly I set to work sketching the plans for a poly-tubing insulation system, though I almost worried heat was going to be more of a problem in excess than otherwise.

After I'd finished my work in the greenhouse I ventured out into my little yard and looked out over the swamp. The drill yard between myself and the wilds beyond was enlivened by the dusky forms of alternately walking and jogging men. The sun was just beginning to set, and the myriad pools scattered across the landscape reflected the shocking pink of the evening sky, looking for all the world like God was using them for the rinse from a watercolor. In the middle distance I saw the unmistakable form of Commander Bochra, hands on his hips, watching the other man as they ran. Without thinking I jerked my hand up, in a strange half-wave. I quickly lowered it, hoping he hadn't seen me. But he raised his hand halfway in return, haphazardly, as though he wasn't quite sure how to return the gesture. I cast one last longing look at the expanse outside of the compound and then turned inside for bed. I could tell it was going to be a long night.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: _A lot going on in this chapter (which I have used to devilishly shirk my responsibilities). Anyways, enjoy. And let me know what you think!_

Chapter 4

That night I slept only in fits and starts, waking up what felt like every few minutes. It was incredibly cold, which I had been unprepared for. I had started the night in my underwear– having no pajamas or even a change of clothes– but soon found myself so cold the goose pimples on my legs _hurt._ Eventually I put my uniform back on, but the fabric was stiff and uncomfortable, and it stank of my fear-sweat. To make matters worse I felt it didn't do much to improve my situation as far as the cold was concerned. With no real way to ascertain the hour, each time I woke up I felt like I'd been tossed out into an endless expanse of night, like there was nothing tethering me to my body, like I was utterly alone. Awake, I trembled in a tight ball, wrapping myself as best I could in the thin blankets. Asleep, I had strange dreams of formless shadows and of noise. The last time I woke up, the sight of a brightening sky was an enormous relief. I laid in bed for a few minutes longer, then decided I wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep- nor did I particularly want to, if it meant returning to those disquieting dreams.

The replicator in my living room made the worst cup of coffee I'd ever had, but I was incredibly grateful that someone had taken the time to program it into the replicator at all. It was still incredibly cold indoors and the warmth of the coffee was a welcome relief as I pulled the blanket from my bed to wrap around my shoulders before walking outside. I was shocked by how warm it was out, almost as warm as it had been when we had arrived the previous day. The sunrise was a thin, pellucid gold and all along the swamp lands there was a strange and beautiful mist rising from the ground, as though the earth were letting out a long exhale. The drill yard in front of me was perfectly still. I could hear the sounds of men talking somewhere in the distance, though I couldn't see them. I cast my blankets from my shoulders and spread them out on the ground before sitting, enjoying the long-awaited feeling of warmth. In sum, it made for a bewildering vista, though I mused that it was probably the one thing I would not resent about my captivity. It was beautiful.

I had only been sitting there in time to drink half the cup of coffee before I heard the noise of movement from inside. I was startled before I remembered: Of course, Commander Taev had said someone would be round in the morning, though I hadn't expected that to mean this early. I stood quickly, pulling the blankets up with me, realizing with a groan that the ground had been muddy and now the blankets were as well.

"Hello?" I called cautiously.

I was surprised– though, I registered with a little shock, pleasantly so– to see Subcommander Bochra standing in the threshold, hands clasped in front of him.

"You are awake," he said, with some relief "I was told humans slept for up to 10 hours at a time. When I did not find you inside I confess I was worried you might've–" he trailed off, awkwardly. I looked away.

"Yeah, I couldn't really sleep last night so I just got up when I saw the sun was up," I said. "Speaking of which, why is it so cold in there? I thought it must just be that night time temperatures plummet here but I came out this morning and evidently that isn't the case. I tried to find some kind of manual climate control during the night but I couldn't. And the computer in there won't respond to my voice." He shook his head.

"The computer will not respond to your voice- that much is intentional," he paused, "I admit that I am perplexed by your complaint insofar as the temperature is concerned. We calibrated it to recreate the median temperature on your home planet, 8 degrees celsius." I laughed.

"Earth has a large seasonal temperature variant," I said. "And anyway I'm not from Earth. I've never even been there. I'm from Risa." He seemed puzzled.

"But are you not human?"

"No, I am. Of course I am. I just was born on Risa. Is a Bajoran born on Earth no longer a Bajoran?" He narrowed his eyes.

"I had never considered the possibility. We are Rihannsu, we come from ch'Rihan."

"But you weren't always," I said. "Rihannsu, I mean. And you didn't always come from ch'Rihan." He looked at me for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"I suppose that's correct," he said. There was a long pause.

"Who's coming to help me with the work that needs to be done on the greenhouse?" I asked. He looked away, his face clouding suddenly.

"I have been assigned that task."

"Oh," I said, realizing, again, that being assigned to me must be a snub. This time, I knew better than to say anything about it.

Instead, I set right to work showing him the alterations I would need for the greenhouse, and explaining as best I could the sorts of materials I would need for my ventilation and my polytubing. He measured and marked out the dimensions for the fans I would need installed. Together we ran scans on the aerated dirt and it turned out that my hunch about the soil nutrients was correct. The phosphorus levels were way too high, and the nitrogen levels were definitely suboptimal, although I figured that would be easier to sort out than the phosphorus problem. We spent about an hour puzzling out the best solution, but in the end it seemed like the most obvious zinc treatment solution would be the easiest of our options.

"I will assign zinc soil treatments to a member of the battalion this afternoon. I can have the treated soil ready for you in the morning. Is there anything else you will need before I depart?" he asked after we had finished formulating our action plan.

"Yes, actually," I said. "I'm going to need more clothes, I don't have any with me besides what I came with. And I'd like to request a PADD with displays in Federation Basic, because I'm going to need something to read or... Just occupy myself with, generally. And I'd like information on how to program the replicator."

"Clothes will be easy," he said, pursing his lips. "Your other requests may prove to be more complex. I am not sure that the PADD you requested would be easy for us to find and, even if it were, if it would be allowed due to security concerns. The replicator codes must remain, I think, inaccessible to you. However I imagine we could create a request system for you, and the programming can be handled by someone else." I looked at the ground. The permanence of my situation was starting to sink in.

"Yeah, I figured" I said. "It's just that. I don't know how long I'm going to be here, and–" I ground my teeth, fighting the familiar sting in my tear ducts. There would be time to cry, eventually, but it wasn't now.

"I will see what I can allow you," he said. When I didn't look up he added, "In the meantime, would you like me to show you what the replicator _does_ have available for you? I'm sure, at the very least, you are hungry." I finally looked up at him, and was met with his narrowed eyes and a hard set to his jaw.

"I _am_ hungry..." I said, trailing off. He waited, expecting me to finish my sentence, but I just shook my head once, then followed him inside.

"First," Bochra said, "we will see about clothing for you." He said something that went untouched through my dermal translator, and I was startled to hear the Romulan language for the first time. The plosives were harsh, but it wasn't without a kind of strange musicality. A tunic and pants materialized, along with a robe; all white, in a fabric not unlike linen. He handed them to me.

"These will, I think, be sufficient for now," he said. "Though later we can attempt to program something more similar to the clothing of your people." I rubbed a hem of the pants between my index finger and thumb. It was surprisingly soft.

Bochra then set to compiling a list of all the programs currently accepted by the replicator, inducing the machine to output individual documents arranged by category. As the stack of documents grew higher, I felt myself growing conversely more morose. He had just finished the list for beverages when I simply couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm never going home again, am I?" I asked, feeling the stinging in my tear ducts again. Bochra turned to look at me and his eyes narrowed again. His reply was icy.

"I have been given orders," he said, "to ensure your safety and comfort. You have not been mistreated, nor will you be, so long as you remain cooperative."

"But I'm going to die here," I said. "Either you'll stop needing me and kill me yourselves or I'll just be here for the rest of my life. I can't decide which is worse."

"And if you do remain here for the rest of your life," he snapped, "will it be some great crime against you? Are my planet and my people truly so disagreeable to you that you would rather die than endure us?" His lip curled. "And your Federation accuses _us_ of overt bigotry." I felt my fist clenching.

"You want to keep me here in captivity, bored and alone, and then tell me I should be thanking you for your kindness? For–" I motioned to the replicator, "a coffee in the morning? A curry for dinner? A set of white robes? Or should I be thanking you for not beating me? For the _gift of my life, intact_? Or maybe for the pretty little bars on my pretty little cage?" He stared at me for a moment, and I could've sworn I saw him fighting to suppress the ghost of a smile on his lips. I was incensed. "Are you fucking _laughing_ at me–"

The swish of the door interrupted me, and precluded any reply he could've offered. Bochra snapped into a salute as Commander Taev walked in, looking annoyed. Today he was wearing a brick red robe with a gold geometric embroidered edge, and what looked like yellow house slippers. He stalked into the room looking ludicrous as usual and held one hand aloft, in a universal gesture of 'cease and desist'. I crossed my arms.

"What's all this?" he said imperiously, "Sylvia I called for you, why did you not answer me?" I blanched, remembering the comm unit's lonely placement under the couch cushion.

"I seem to have, um, misplaced the comms you gave me," I said. He gave me a strange look.

"How? It's not as though there is much room for misplacement." he said, and his eyes hardened. "Do not deceive me." I did my best to assume a guileless expression. Subcommander Bochra cleared his throat.

"I can not pretend to explain how she managed to be so absent minded, Commander, but she did mention to me that she had lost it when I came to assist her with the greenhouse this morning." My eyes widened and I averted my gaze to the ground. Obviously, I'd said no such thing. There was no way he was somehow confused on that front. Why was he covering for me? Taev made an exasperated noise.

"Then I trust you will see that she is issued a replacement tomorrow, Subcommander," he said, then sneered. "Since you among us seem to _understand_ her race so well, I am sure you will not object to a placement as her permanent assistant? The regiment seems to have done perfectly today even without your invaluable guidance. This assignment may make the best use of your particular _skills._ "

"I have no objections to your orders, Commander." Bochra said

"Good. You are dismissed."

I turned to watch him leave, trying to gauge his reaction, but the Subcommander's face was like a mask. As the doors closed behind him I felt a pit forming in my gut. I did _not_ want to be alone with Commander Taev.

It seemed Taev was of the opposite opinion regarding being alone with me. As soon as Bochra had vanished he turned to me, eyes gleaming, and a lecherous smile began to creep across his face. He stretched a hand towards my face and I flinched, instinctively. He laughed, winding a lock of hair near my temple around his finger.

"What's wrong, pet?" he said, softly. "Still frightened of me?" I stiffened and averted my eyes, feeling my heartbeat begin to quicken and heat rising to my cheeks. He untangled himself from my hair, deftly, and ran the tips of his fingers along my cheekbone. I felt myself breathe in sharply as his skin made contact with mine for the first time– the heat was shocking, almost feverish, and set my pulse racing. I felt like a prey animal. He followed the plane of my cheekbone up to my temple then tucked my hair behind my ear, pausing to gently trace the ridge of it.

"So strange," he said, almost to himself, "and yet–" he was close enough that I could hear the wet sound of his lips parting from his gums as he began to smile, though I did not look up, "I find it beautiful." Suddenly, his hand was cupping my chin, tilting my face up to look at him. He held me there and, for a moment my eyes met his, dark and gleaming. Then, abruptly, he released me and turned away. I let out a sharp sigh of relief, though the skin on my cheek still burned strangely from his touch.

"You resist me," he said, "and I do not understand it. I have provided for you, I have made you comfortable. Your records list you as unbonded, are you not?" He turned to me. Briefly, I considered lying, but decided against it. I shook my head. He made a strange gesture, as though sweeping a grain of rice from a table. "I will not take that which is not freely given, but I am... _unaccustomed…_ to such opposition," He paused. "Among my people I am well known for my beauty, though perhaps to a human..." He narrowed his eyes.

"No," I said, meekly "you would be beautiful to humans as well."

"And to you?" He asked. I swallowed, searching for an answer that would save me from both the fire of his wrath and the fire of his hands.

"I... don't have an opinion." I said. He laughed, humorlessly.

"Perhaps you think, because you are so beautiful, you can rebuff me as long as you wish." I looked up, genuinely baffled.

"What?" I said. He turned away, pacing the length of the room.

"When they showed me the personnel files of candidates for your position I couldn't believe my luck!" he said, again almost to himself "There amongst the botanists, a pretty little human! Pick that one, I said. I'll make short work of her–"

" _What?"_

He turned to me again and the look on his face was almost wounded.

"I told you, amongst my people–"

"No, I meant. _You_ picked me? But that was a Federation assignment! How–" He snorted.

"Do you think the Federation have a monopoly on _moles?_ "

"You have people _inside_ the Federation high-ranking enough to be making _personnel_ assignments and you used that to kidnap a girl you thought was _cute_?"

He looked at me like I was some kind of idiot.

"Have you damaged your head? I have told you on more than one occasion that you were brought here to grow your orchids for me. That you are beautiful is merely another gift you have given me." He sniffed. I was completely nonplussed.

"I– _what?_ " I said. "I won't even begin to address the idea that on this planet I'm somehow magically beautiful all of a sudden but are you. I mean are you _joking_?" He scowled.

"I came to invite you to accompany me on my envoy to Ki Baratan for the week, but as you have demonstrated such a lack of decorum I no longer find the extension of such an honor appropriate."

"Commander, I have soil preparations to attend to, and I have to start planting I can't just _leave_ for a week."

"Your justification seems unimportant now that you are no longer invited." I stared at him. Was this guy for real?

"You're… right, Commander," I said. "Forgive my presumption." His face softened a little.

"You are forgiven," he said, haughtily. "While I am gone I trust you will begin to understand how poorly you have treated me." He eyed me. "I will not miss you. There are many other beautiful women in the capital."

"I– Ok. Well, have fun?" He smirked.

"I assure you, I will," he said. "And perhaps while you are here with Subcommander _Bochra_ you will realize what you have been missing." He gave me a half-lidded cat's stare and then swept out of the room.

As soon as the doors closed behind him I slumped onto the floor, realizing how tense I had been. I put my head in my hands. What the fuck was going on here? How had Taev somehow gotten me assigned to Opperline III? Was that why my approval had come so quickly? What was all this weird ass nonsense about the orchids? It didn't seem to be very important to Taev, even though he'd claimed it was. At least not important enough that a week's delay would make any difference. Although, I was beginning to think of Taev as a complete incompetent, which was _not_ an impression I'd ever gathered about Romulans before. People said what they would about Romulans: that they were duplicitous, sneaky, not to be trusted. Incompetent never came up– at least not in any discussion I'd ever been privy to. And certainly _someone_ was clever enough to position a Federation mole. I found it difficult to believe that it could've been Taev, but I felt that it might be dangerous to underestimate him just yet. Even if he was bluffing, it would be better to be on guard.

Most puzzling of all: why had Bochra lied for me about the comm? I _really_ hadn't seen that coming after his dogmatic little monologue on obedience. I briefly considered that it was some kind of ploy to dupe me into trusting him, but that just didn't ring true. They already had me here, they didn't exactly need to gain my trust. I fought back an insistent little hope that it might have something to do with the bizarre proclamation Taev had issued, that somehow to these aliens I was some kind of beauty. _That_ had to be a deception, though when Taev had said it–

I shook my head and rose to my feet. I wasn't going to let that kind of cheap flattery work on me. I wasn't _that_ stupid.

And anyway, I had a lot of gardening to do.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: _Hey everyone! Sorry for leaving this for so long. The story isn't dead, obviously. I hope to get you guys another update in the next week or so. Anyway, enjoy, and let me know what you think! :)_

Chapter 5

My sleep that night was fitful, and my dreams anxious. In one dream I was in a strange forest, desperately trying to catch emerald-colored snakes in a net while Commander Taev watched me and laughed. In another, I was standing at the replicator reading off items from the catalogue Bochra had given me, but all of the items had somehow been reprogrammed, and every request materialized as a gelatinous, many-eyed blob of flesh. A dream-Bochra stood in the corner of the room with his arms crossed and a disappointed expression on his face, like if I tried a little bit harder I'd get the replicator to work.

The dreams–particularly the latter– were unsettling enough that the following morning even the terrible coffee the replicator produced felt like a miracle, though I couldn't help but laugh at myself a little for being dumb enough to have been worried in the first place.

Coffee made, I leaned against my living room wall and browsed the catalogue for something to eat. I was surprised— and more than a little amused— to see an entry under 'Food: Morning' for a full English breakfast. I ordered that, then went and changed into the robes Bochra had given me the previous day. They were comfortably loose-fitting, and soft, like a linen cocoon. I had no mirror available to me to confirm my suspicions (which I was, truthfully, glad for) but I could just tell that the robes were flattering. Bochra the stylist, huh? Who knew?

I walked back over to the replicator and took a bite of a yolk-soaked English muffin– surprisingly good– and returned to my perusal of the catalogue. I had finished my breakfast and was getting myself another cup of coffee when I heard my door open.

I turned towards the entrance, feeling– I was surprised to find– a little swell of excitement in my stomach. There, stepping through the door was–

"Antecenturion Torketh?"

"Hello, Madame Fonesca," Torketh said, a little nervously, "Subcommander Bochra said. I mean, I was instructed. I mean." he gathered himself, and I felt my heart sink a little. "I am to be your aide today."

"Oh. I was under the impression that Subcommander Bochra was supposed to be… permanently assisting me." I said, struggling not to sound disappointed. Struggling not to _be_ disappointed.

"Commander Taev, as you may know, is departing for the capital today. Subcommander Bochra is busied by the delegations and preparations for his departure and so. I have been instructed to serve you diligently and. My apologies if I do not perform my duties correctly. I have no experience in matters of horticulture."

"I'm sure you're more than capable, Torketh," I said, suddenly feeling a rush of sympathy for him. "Anyway it's really not difficult stuff today. We just have some scans to perform. Do you have the zinc-treated soil with you?" Torketh looked instantly agonized. "Oh! It's okay if you forgot it! Just go get the soil and I'll wait here," I said, then added ruefully, "Not like I'm going anywhere anytime soon." He gave me a stiff nod then practically sprinted out the door.

As soon as Torketh had gone I felt myself slump in my chair. Of course as soon as the Commander left Bochra would go back to business as usual. I'd been stupid to assume he'd keep coming to help _me._ And why _had_ I assumed he would, anyway? Not because he'd been given an order– I realized with a start– though he had evangelized to me at length on the importance of fealty. No, it was because I'd assumed he actually enjoyed my company. And why had I assumed _that?_ Because _I enjoyed his_ , I realized _._

I felt my stomach flip. Great! This was the _last_ thing I needed. Rather than trying to figure out a way to escape my glorified birdcage, I was wasting precious mental energy worrying about whether or not my Romulan captor _liked_ me. I put my head in my hands. Leave it to dumbass Sylvia to get captured by Romulans on her first federation post and then get _Stockholm syndrome,_ for fucks' sake. I really needed to get my act together. The problem was, I didn't really _want_ -

The swish of the doors sounded and I jerked to attention.

"Madame, are you ill? I can send for–"

"No, Antecenturion I'm just fine," I said, making my best attempt at a warm smile, "But thanks for asking. You've got the soil?"

To my great surprise, Antecenturrion Torketh proved to be an enjoyable and amenable workmate. He made several other sojourns out to get supplies he had forgotten, but together he and I got the days' work done with relative efficiency. I didn't know much about Romulan aging, but to me he seemed like a kid, maybe 17 or 18. Nervous and scatterbrained, certainly, but earnest and eager to please in equal measure.

By midafternoon, we had taken all of our humidity percentage scans and our soil content readings. Torketh installed the ventilation and polytubing in the greenhouse, and I planted my first crop of orchids. I planted a few cultivars each of Slipper Orchids, Moth Orchids and Jewel Orchids. On a whim, I'd also requested a few varieties of 'Lady of the Night' Orchids, just to see whether the temperature variations on Romulus would suit them. I planned to chart each of these hardy varieties' growth, then move from there onto the more fantastically beautiful and invariably more fragile varieties.

"Do you think they'll grow well?" Torketh asked me as we stood in the completed greenhouse, admiring our handiwork.

I shrugged. "It's hard to say," I said. "They'll certainly _grow_ , thanks in part to you. But as for growing _well?_ As much as any gardener likes to believe she's the god of her particular domain, there are always variables you can't isolate for."

"We can adjust any environmental controls you may wish–"

" _Not_ just in the environment, unfortunately," I said. "Sometimes there are variables that come from the seeds themselves, specific weaknesses or mutations. Those you can't control. You just have to plant more than one seed at a time." I smiled at him. He looked uncomfortable.

"If you require no additional service from me," he said, "then I will depart."

"Oh! You don't have to go," I said, trying not to sound as desperate as I suddenly realized I felt. "Actually, I'd prefer a little bit of company."

Torketh grimaced at the word 'company.' "I have other duties to attend to, Madame Fonesca," he said, hastily. "If you desire more gardening assistance, I will render it. But if you have no further tasks I really must leave."

"Oh," I said. "Yeah, I understand. Sorry." He turned to go, and I felt shame burning in my gut.

"Thanks for the help." I shouted, towards his retreating form. He turned, gave me a terse nod, and then was gone.

For the second time that day I found myself slumped in a chair with my face in my hands. Of course, how could I be so stupid? I suspected Torketh really _did_ have other duties to perform, but the fact that he'd rather go do menial work than sit with me and talk for a little while was frankly crushing, to a degree I hadn't anticipated. Of course, his behavior shouldn't have come as a shock; I'd heard the way they talked about humans. Though to his credit, I mused, Torketh had been extremely polite. _I_ was the fool for mistaking his professionalism for a genuine interest in my company. My track record for overestimating the Romulans' affectionate feelings really wasn't looking so great. Zero out of two. Talk about a losing streak.

I wandered back outside where the sun was beginning to sink in the sky. I figured it'd be about an hour until sunset. I felt even more miserable when I realized the sunset was virtually all I had to look forward to. Someone was _really_ going to need to get me some books, or some music, or _something._ I walked into my greenhouse and ran some redundant tests, but that didn't occupy me for long. After my third round of trace element scans I couldn't keep it off any longer. I sat down on the floor, tucked my legs up against me, and started to cry. I was seeing the coming months– perhaps years– of captivity all spread out in front of me like a staircase narrowing towards infinity. How was I going to escape the compound? It didn't seem possible. And even if I did find some way to escape, the chances of getting off-world seemed slim to none. No wonder I was clinging to the affection of everyone I met, besides Taev… I shuddered. Taev's inevitable return added an even more terrifying dimension to my imagined future of lonely confinement. Why had I ever even taken that stupid Federation job? Why hadn't I just stayed on boring, unchangeable Risa where I belonged? Why had I taken all of my friendships for granted? Why-

Just then I heard the scuffling of footsteps. I froze, then quickly wiped the tears from my face.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" a gruff, familiar voice, then the greenhouse door opened.

Subcommander Bochra stood in the threshold, tight-lipped, holding a massive box. Great, just who I needed to see me crying, I thought. And yet– I couldn't deny a little burst of happiness growing in my chest. I stood.

"Were you… weeping?"

"I– yeah, don't worry about it. What do you want?" I said, a little more forcefully than I had intended. Bochra looked at me askance.

"I departed this morning for a base a few hundred hectares from here. I've only just returned." He walked inside. "I have brought you some of the supplies you requested." He set the box on one of the greenhouse shelves.

"Oh!" I said, perplexed. "Antecenturrion Torketh told me you weren't coming, that you were busy making preparations for Commander Taev–"

"Antecenturrion Torketh knows little." Bochra said, his jaw setting. "Commander Taev has made his orders clear to me. I am to do nothing but see to your comfort. Lieutenant Khaiel has subsumed most of my on-base responsibilities."

"Subcommander, why does–" I said, then, thinking better of it, "what um– what's in the box?" Bochra diverted his attention towards it, relieved to answer my new query rather than endure what he surely knew was going to be another question about the sagacity of Taev's orders.

"You requested a PADD with Federation Basic displays. That, for now, is not possible. However, I made some inquiries, and was able to locate these interface-free written materials which are in Federation basic. They are old, dating I think to the end of the 22nd century, beginning of the 23rd, but you will have to make do." I peered into the box, read some titles, and gasped.

"How did you… where did you _find_ these?" I sputtered.

"I believe I have already said, on a base some 200 hectares from here."

"Do you– I mean do you know what these _are_?" Bochra looked away and I could've sworn I saw color darkening the tips of his ears. He cleared his throat.

"I was _told_ ," he said, "that they were left over from a planned reconnaissance mission, from nearly a century ago. What one might call a.. 'honeypot' scheme. But the mission was quickly abandoned. I was told that– well that these were _research_ materials for that mission." He coughed.

"But you don't know what they are?"

"I… do not read Federation Basic," he hedged.

I picked up one of the more lurid titles: "His Human Love Slave (Novel 1 of the Bound series)." On its cover was a drawing of a dark-haired woman in a loincloth, kneeling at the feet of what could've been a Vulcan man, but looked suspiciously like a Romulan. I held it up to him.

"You can't possibly misunderstand _that_." I said. He grimaced.

"Are all human moods so changeable?" he asked, almost pleadingly. "Upon my arrival you were _weeping_ and now–"

"Oh don't try to change the subject, _you're_ the one who came in here with His Human Love Slave and–" I reached for another one of the books. "When Aliens– actually I don't even want to read this one out loud. I mean what exactly are you trying to tell me?" Bochra looked almost sick.

"Must I remind you, it was _your_ people who produced these materials, not mine." he said, weakly.

"Sure, but it was _your_ people who thought they were useful for 'research.' By the way research on _what_? Eroticizing captivity? I mean _really_ Subcommander what message are you—"

"Do you have _no_ decorum? I have attempted to accommodate you. If you would prefer that I take the materials away with me—"

"No, no!" I said, grasping for them reflexively. "No, I mean. I was just teasing. I really do appreciate it." I searched his face but the Subcommander wouldn't meet my eyes. "Thank you. You have been really… accommodating."

Bochra exhaled once, sharply, through his nose. He turned to look at me.

"If you have no further requests I must take my leave."

"That's all," I said, but as he turned to go I felt that vertiginous loneliness creeping back up my spine.

"Wait. I do. I have, um, one other request." He turned to face me, jaw set. "It's just that. I mean humans are really social and. I mean these books will do a lot for me but. I really am gonna need some company from time to time, or else I'm really gonna lose it so. I guess, just. Some company. That's my request." Bochra considered me for a moment, his eyes meeting mine, and I could've sworn I saw a glimmer of something like warmth. Just as quickly as I could form the thought, he turned away.

"It will be arranged" he said.


End file.
